The Pope put the woman to the question: “Madam, what do you want?”
Face to face with that she failed to put her want in words. It was an acrid pungent permanent want, not-to-be-named. She bit at her upper lip again; and looked at Jerry for a lead. He proceeded “I think, Reverend Sir, that it will be more advantageous for all parties if I was to speak for Mrs. Crowe.”
“We will concede the point. Sir, what do you want?” the Pontiff said.
Then the virtuous Jerry also began to flounder. Want? Eh, but he wanted several things.
“Name them:” the Pope commanded.
“Well:—reparation—damages.”
“For what?” the Pope inquired.
“For ma loss of time whiles I’ve had to be here and for ma business which Ye may say’s gone ta th dogs; and for the loss of ma Liblab Fellowship.”
“To what extent have you suffered?”
“To fhat extent? Well, I’ll let Ye know. I’ve been here since last July, say eight months, say forty weeks, say three hundred days; and I take ordinarily a pound-note per day on journeys for expenses: but it’s cost me a heap more than that this trip. Ye can call it five hundred pounds for out-of-pocket expenses. Then there’s ma business which I’ve had to neglect, eight months, better say a year at one-fifty for salary, and commissions—say another fifty. There’s eight hundreds. Then they’ve had the cheek to expel me as a Fellowshipper, as I suppose Ye’ve heard. Of course that’s very damaging to ma prestige, say to the extent of a couple of thousands. Fhat’s that come to? Two thousands eight hundreds—may as well call it three thousands. And of course there’s fhat old Krooger named moral and intellectual damage—I don’t know fhat tae pit that at, I’m sure—but Ye might tot it all up together and call it twenty thousands.”
“And your companion?”
“Aweel, Ye’d better double it and we’ll both ca’ quits. Forty thousands cash!”
The Pope cast a slight look round upon his cardinals. They returned it. “You are demanding that We should pay you forty thousand pounds,” He said to the expectant Jerry.
“That’s correct.”
“Why do you demand this sum of Us?”
“Why? Why because we’ve run into all these expenses on your account. If Ye hadna have been here, neither would we have come and have had all this fuss and bother. Who’s to indemnify us for that but Yersel’, I’m asking Ye. I’ll let Ye know we’ve fair ruined oursels—”
The Bald She interrupted. “If I could have a private word with Your Holiness.”
The motive did not escape Hadrian’s notice. “Daughter, your conduct and your notorious proclivities debar you from a private interview with any clergyman, except in the open confessional.”
“Then in the confessional.”
The Pope rose and beckoned her to follow. He beckoned Sir John to stop the machines and remain: the others to follow. They descended into St. Peter’s. There, He turned out the English Confessor; and took his place, while the woman kneeled at the left side. Just out of earshot, the four cardinals stayed with Sant, who fumed in his inward parts. Fhat blathers was this going on under their very noses? The half-door and the window both were open: only the lateral partition divided the priest from the penitent. The grating was between their faces; and, though they were perfectly visible, they were visible apart and separate.
Hadrian in a low tone recited “May the Lord be in thine heart and on thy lips”—; and put Himself to listen.
Through the grating there came a whine—
“Georgie!”
“My child, there is no Georgie here, but only your Judge. Confess your sins, if you will—only to Almighty God. Show contrition. And, by His authority committed to me His minister, I will absolve.”
Then the Devil entered into her. She incoherently spluttered “I have no sins—if I had, I wouldn’t tell You.—You reject me?—Oh I’ll make You regret it—I’ll make You suffer as I have—I’ll show you up for what You are—” She stiffened and rushed across to Jerry “Now do your worst,” she said; and her face was livid.
Sant gripped the lapels of his grotesque frock-coat and approached the white figure which emerged from the central compartment of the confessional.
“I should like to mak’ an end of this matter,” he said.
Hadrian led the way to the throne-room: the phonographs were set to work; and the conference was resumed.
“Now,” said Jerry, “I’m thinking that Your Right Reverence had better let us know definitely fhat Ye intend to do.”
The Pope spoke rather more slowly and with more singular mildness than before. “You demand that We should pay you forty thousand pounds in reparation for damage which, you say, We have caused.”
“That’s so.”
“It is useless to point out to you that We did not ask you to waste your time in Rome—”
“I should have been surprised if Ye had have.”
“And that We did not force you, or induce you, to neglect your business—”
“Nae! Ye never thought I’d have dared to face Ye as I have.”
“And that We were in no wise concerned with your expulsion from the Liblab Fellowship—”
“But Ye were! If Ye’d have had the civility to give the deputation a satisfactory answer, or even to have satisfied the fellowshippers afterwards, or to have made it all right with me so as I could have settled them, then there wouldn’t have been all this trouble and unpleasantness, my Lord.”
“Some men are gifted with an abnormal capability for making the greatest possible fools of themselves. For the credit of the human race, it must be said that indecent exhibitions of this kind are rare. Mr. Sant, does it not occur to you that you are engaging in a very foolish and a very dirty business?”
“Dirty business Yersel’! Who’re Ye talking to? Ma hands are as clean as Yours any day. Who owes twenty pound notes to this lady I’m brought with me?”
“We do not know.”
“Imphm. Well, suppose I was to say it was Yersel’?”
“You would tell an officious lie, Mr. Sant.” The Pope turned to the woman. “Madam, do We owe you twenty
